Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [145]
“That pile of logs will last us a week this winter,” Merrik said. “I came to thank you, Cleve, helping Oleg look after everything here at Malverne.”
“Naught of anything happened,” Cleve said, gently cleaned the axe blade on his tunic, and strode to where Merrik was standing beneath an oak tree that was as old as the fjord. “The crops are safely stored, the goats and cows and children are fattening well, and Taby learned to ride the children’s pony, Ebel. Your farmstead is a fine place, Merrik. You are blessed with sufficient arable land for your needs.”
“Aye, I know it,” Merrik said. “But you also know, Cleve, it was never destined to be mine. It was Erik’s. It feels strange to me to be the lord here. Did Taby miss me and Laren?”
“Aye, but he forgot you soon enough on Ebel’s back.” Cleve laughed and punched Merrik’s arm. He drew back instantly, a flare of the old slave terror in his eyes.
“Nay, my friend. You are free. Indeed, I come to ask you if you wish to return to Normandy with Taby and Hallad. The great Rollo himself wishes to reward you. Whatever you wish is yours. Whatever life you choose to lead, he will see that you gain it. He is a good man, a man to admire and follow. You would have a good life there, Cleve.”
“I shall think about it, Merrik. I thank you.”
“Tell me what you think of Hallad.”
“He is a good man, despite the richness of his blood. He is also a very lucky man. His brother believed in him and protected him for three long years. And now he has returned to what he knew and he has his son and daughter as well. Aye, a very lucky man is Hallad.”
“He is those things, it is true. However, Cleve, he is not young and strong and filled with health and a young man’s vigor and eagerness for life. He is an old man. If he were to breed a child, he would probably be dead before the child reached his boyhood years.”
Cleve grew very still. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “I trust so, Merrik, but life is always uncertain, is it not?” He looked away from Merrik, into the distance at the stark mountain peaks on the opposite side of the fjord. “There is much to consider.”
Merrik began to stack the logs Cleve had cut. “Tell me about what you did in my absence. Tell me how many fights there were, how many men are now just growling at each other.”
That night Laren took up her duty as Malverne’s skald once again. She told the story of an Irish merchant whose son, Ulric, was a bully, a vicious coward, and could never be trusted to act with honor. “Aye, our proud bully wanted to be a chieftain. One day he chanced upon a strange lady, and even though he was a spiteful ruffian, he wasn’t stupid. The lady was stuck in a bog and couldn’t free herself. Ulric managed to rescue her. He even decided not to rape her, such was his goodwill that day. It was a good thing, this goodwill of his, for then she told him she was a fairy and that she would grant any wish he asked for. He wanted to be chieftain, he told her, all puffed up, his eyes gleaming in his greed, for he believed her. Ulric said, ‘I want to rule all the people in all the lands hereabouts for as far as I can see.’
“ ‘That is great deal of land and a good number of people,’ the fairy told him.
“ ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘As far as I can see. That will be my dominion. You promised.’
“She smiled at him and gently raised her arms to the heavens. She called upward, her voice as sweet and strong as Malverne’s honey mead, ‘Grant this man, oh mighty Odin All-Father, grant